


Even Doves Have Pride

by DevilMadeMeDoIt



Series: Doves 'verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: (but like...the medieval kind), (but really...he's ok), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Chastity Device, Claiming, Consent Issues, Falling In Love, Fluff, Gender Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Mpreg, Injured Castiel, Kidnapping, Knotting, M/M, Marking, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Prisoner of War, Sexual Tension, Social Isolation, True Mates, Virginity, alpha!cas, cultural gender stereotypes, in which i say fuck gender roles, john winchester is literally king dickhead, omega!dean, warrior!Cas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-03 14:29:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevilMadeMeDoIt/pseuds/DevilMadeMeDoIt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is the prized omega son of King John Winchester. He has been kept isolated from the world at large to protect his virginity, so that once he has reached maturity he will be married off to the highest Alpha bidder. </p>
<p>Castiel is a disgraced warrior prince who is racked with guilt over the capture of his sister, and Lieutenant, Anna during the war he barely survived. He has been sent by his family to make a claim on the young omega prince to restore his honor. </p>
<p>Neither of them counted on finding their True Mates in one another. </p>
<p>Neither of them is particularly happy with the arrangement that follows, at first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

Dean stood in front of the ornate full length mirror beside his dressing table and scowled at his reflection. He was draped from shoulder to mid-thigh in a creamy white muslin tunic, the collar stiff with delicate gilt embroidery that dripped down the open neckline in a way that he was certain his father's seamstress had fancied would make a tantalizing display of his pale omega throat for the rabid Alphas that had come to bid for his hand (for his bed, more likely).

 

He stared at himself and could smell the resentment he felt rising off of him in waves of bitter almond and a not-so-tiny part of him hoped it followed him into the hall and put off all of his potential “suitors.” He was building himself up into a very nice lather when the soft herbal lemon scent of his handmaiden and dearest friend cut through the room, calming him immediately. He glared at her through the mirror as she flopped herself down onto his bed and snorted at her unladylike struggle to sprawl as comfortably as possible in her formal gown.

 

Charlie narrowed her eyes at him and pouted. “Just be grateful you will be allowed trousers, heathen.” As her eyes trailed over him she smirked. “That is of course, if you were planning on actually wearing them.” She plucked at the light gold breeches folded over the end of the bed and waggled her eyebrows suggestively. “Though, I dare say this whole event will go much faster if you march into the hall in only a tunic and your chastity belt.” She sniggered as Dean let a half-hearted warning growl trickle out of his clenched teeth. “I'll remind you to watch your tone with me, handmaiden.” He huffed and waved dismissively. “I'm sure there is a chamber pot somewhere in the castle for you to attend to.” She rolled her eyes at him and he grinned. “Yes, very droll, Dean.”

 

She slid off the bed and came to stand behind him, wrapping comforting arms around his waist, pressing a friendly kiss to his cheek. Dean melted back into his friend's embrace and allowed himself a moment of fearful vulnerability. “I'm scared, Charlie. How can my father sell me off to the highest bidder like a prize cow at market? I'm will be forced into a destiny I never chose, forced to cater to some strange Alpha, be his plaything. Why?” Charlie squeezed him tightly, nosing behind his ear and letting her soft beta scent soothe him from his panic. “It is no life I would have chosen, darling. He is the king, so I suppose there is no fighting it. But, no matter where you go, I will always be with you.”

 

He sighed, opening his eyes and looking at the picture of them together. “That is the only thing keeping me from attempting a mad escape this very moment.” She grinned and pinched his side, making him yelp. “Then your father is forever in my debt, this night. Now,” she clapped her hands together as she stepped back, turning him from the mirror to face her. “Let us finish getting you dressed, my prince. You've a ball to get to.”

 

~{~

 

In the wide stone banquet hall, Dean manfully tried not to fidget with his too-tight clothes as he stood at his father's elbow and cursed the biology Mother Nature had seen fit to bless him with. The tunic had been laced up the back, cleaving the fabric to his lean chest, showing off his slim waist. The sleeves were also laced, from wrist to elbow and if it were not for the loose hem brushing at his thighs, he would be even more painfully on display. He shook his head softly, feeling scent-drunk and he was sure that his eyes had gone glassy at least a half hour ago. He was surrounded on all sides by posturing Alpha, their rich, musky scents made his vision hazy, made sweat bead at his brow and in the dip of his spine. He was uncomfortably warm, terrifyingly half-aroused, and all because of his _nature._

 

He attempted to smile demurely at the men (and surprisingly, one woman) circling around the room, to play his role of the polite, meek little omega prince, but the hot itch under his skin was making him angry. It was one thing to feel this way with someone you chose, someone you wanted, but it was entirely another to feel it simply by being in the presence of so many Alphas. 

 

From nearly the minute his omega characteristics had manifested, John had forbidden him from contact with any Alpha that was not family, unless he were present to chaperone. What Dean had initially interpreted as a natural instinct to protect his son from unwanted attentions, had really been an obsessive desire to protect an incredibly valuable asset. Male omegas were not unheard of, but among the powerful ruling bloodlines, it was rare. As such, Dean became a precious commodity overnight, and no expense had been spared to ensure he remained pure until the day he was to be mated. Neither were any chances taken that would put such a prize at risk. His father had commissioned a Master ironsmith to fashion a chastity belt for him, shining sliver steel that molded to his body, and from the moment the key had been turned in the lock, it had never been removed. He had suffered endlessly through his heats, unable to even use his own hands or fingers to try to satisfy the terrible _need_ that left him shaking and sobbing in Charlie's arms, her cool touch doing nothing to soothe the searing pain of every nerve-end on fire. 

 

John shot him an irritated look as he squirmed, desperate to draw in a breath of air that didn't drown him in Alpha. He was close to gasping, certain that he would faint when two sets of familiar arms hooked around his and pulled him away. He half heard Sam suggesting to their father that Dean take a turn about the room, perhaps mingle with his potential suitors. There was no verbal response that he could hear, so he assumed his father had given the young Alpha an approving nod. Dragging in the refreshing zing of lemon and Charlie, Dean felt his head clearing, and he was damned grateful when he was led to a quiet corner and handed a crystal goblet of wine.

 

He sipped at his wine and took long, slow breaths in through his nose, letting Sam's fresh woodsy pine and rainwater scent cleanse his senses rather than overwhelm. It took more effort than Dean was willing to admit to not feel resentful toward his brother. Sam stood strong and tall, and even though he was two years younger than Dean, he already projected an aura of confidence and authority that was all Alpha. Dean sighed and shook his head when Sam's frowned a questioning look at him.

 

The day that Dean's omega characteristics had manifested had been so clear and perfect that he and Sam had managed to duck under the watchful eye of their tutor and escape out into the sweeping fields around the castle, intent on having a midday adventure before they were scolded for shirking their lessons. Young and carefree, they had tussled in the long grasses, climbed sprawling apple trees, and used fallen branches, pretending to battle to the death. Before too long, the sun had begun to sink from it's highest peak, and they grudgingly returned to the castle. They had been racing each other, bellies aching with laughter and full of pilfered apples when they tumbled into a happy tangle of gangly limbs just outside the kitchens. As they lay there catching their breath, a thick honeyed scent wafted toward Dean's nose. He'd nudged his brother, excited that perhaps the cook had made some sweet treat that they could sneak before supper. He had stood to peek in the mullioned window when he heard Sam gasp. Turning back, he had caught his brother's horrified look and had been sure that they had been caught fooling around and were going to be punished. Curiously, Sam had been staring at the back of Dean's breeches and he'd swiped a hand over his backside, hoping he hadn't rolled in something foul. His fingers came back sticky wet and that scent deepened, smelling like sweet honey and fig jam. He'd frowned and wiped the slick stuff on the leg of his breeches. “What, Sam?” He'd asked when his brother sat there still, mouth gaping open like a hooked fish. “Dean....” Sam had started. “You...you're an omega.” Hazel eyes stared up at him in horrified wonder and Dean had rolled his eyes, scoffing. “Quit joking, Sammy. There hasn't been a Winchester omega in centuries. I probably just sat on some rotten apples. And besides, if anyone here was gonna be an omega, it'd be you, princess. I'm _all_ Alpha.” Dean had grinned, crossing his arms over his puffed out chest, but then his skin had started to tingle, and he felt something burning hot drip down the inside of his thigh. He'd looked down at Sam struggling around his coltish legs in alarm. “Sam? Something's...the matter. I don't....feel-” Distantly he had heard Sam calling his name as Dean crumpled to the ground, his very first heat taking him and swallowing him whole.

 

His entire life had changed in that single moment. John had seemed disappointed by his son and Dean had been ashamed of what his body was doing without his choosing. Dean had been raised with the expectation that he would present as Alpha, as all Winchester men had for as long as they could remember, but from that day on, Dean had been treated shockingly differently by his father, by the servants of the castle, by seemingly everyone, except for Sam. Dean was no longer allowed his regular lessons, it was deemed unnecessary that he be taught about battles and swordplay and defense. He was given lessons in etiquette, on how to be a proper omega mate for whenever he would be married and mated, and some poor, well-meaning woman had tried to teach him to embroider before he had chased her off with a snarling threat. Sam had taken pity on him and would bring him books whenever he could, and each night after supper, Sam would sneak into Dean's bedchamber and share his day's lessons. It hadn't been long at all before Dean grew to hate not only being an omega, but Alphas for the horrible domestic oppression that omegas like Dean were forced into by right of the damnable Hierarchy.

 

The one bright spot in those ever darkening days came in the form of a scarlet haired, grinning beta named Charlie. As Dean's anger and melancholy grew over his isolation from the world he had once been such an avid explorer of, his father had decided that Dean would need a companion, a neutral companion that could help guide Dean through the more delicate aspects of his blossoming nature. Little did John know that Charlie was one of the least ladylike (at least in private) girls that Dean had ever met. Charlie would sneak him out of the castle with the excuse that they were going to take a turn through the gardens, or to pick wildflowers, and instead the afternoon would find them with Charlie's skirts knotted up around her thighs as she and Dean climbed trees and skipped rocks across the lake. Charlie held him when his heats came, whispered fantastical tales of brave warriors and enchanting sorcerers to ground him when the worst of the tremors shook his body. She became his most trusted confidant, his closest ally, his best friend.

 

Dean swallowed the memories with the last mouthful of wine and opened his eyes to the room once more. He tensed when he noticed the female Alpha staring at him with a predatory glint in her grey-green eyes. With a swish of black velvet skirts she stalked toward him. He had never seen a female Alpha, for as rare as male omegas were, female Alphas were rarer. She certainly looked every bit as dangerous and hungry as the dozens of men in the hall, but more striking, infinitely bolder in her corseted gown, the gleam of priceless emeralds dripping down over her impressively showcased bustline. Her burnished bronze locks were piled up on the crown of her head in sensual curls, and as she drew closer he could nearly taste her spicy birch and lush rose scent.

 

Charlie and Sam stepped back from him and his first instinct was to panic when she stood in front of him and trailed her fingertips down his jawline to his throat. She practically purred with a soft English accent, “My, but you are a pretty little thing, aren't you. Ripe and ready for the taking.” He gasped when she slid a hand around his waist and pulled him in tight against her. When her fingers began wandering down his backside, Sam cleared his throat. “Excuse me, madam Talbot, but I believe my father is eager to have Dean at his side again. I must escort him.” She growled when Sam eased Dean out of her grip and it made low things in his belly tighten. Her dainty nostrils flared when the scent of unbidden arousal swirled around him and smiled wickedly. “Until later, precious omega.” Dean snorted as Sam tugged him forward. “Don't objectify me, _Alpha_.” She snarled and cursed and he was sorely tempted to stick out his tongue at her. She may be wrapped in a different package, but she was no different from any of the other testosterone poisoned Alphas there for the same reason.

 

When they returned to the dais, their father's scent was heavy with displeasure, his face a scowling mask of reproach for Dean's behavior. “Dean, _do_ try to be pleasant to our guests. They are here for you, after all.” Dean rolled his eyes behind his father's back and tried to look remorseful. “Yes, sir. My apologies.”

 

John did not allow Dean far from his side after that and he was forced to listen as his father negotiated with several Alpha's bidding dowries for his hand. None of them inspired much by the way of attraction in Dean, many were outright slimy and he shuddered internally as one tall, thin Alpha with a scent that was just _wrong_ took his hand in spindly fingers and kissed his knuckles, tongue lapping disgustingly against his skin before Dean yanked it back as politely as possible.

 

As the bidding went on, each Alpha trying to woo the King with astronomically richer bids, Dean felt sick to his stomach. This was all that he was worth to his father? Fat coffers of gold, alliances, trade routes? He wanted to run, wanted away from all of this. He didn't want to be sold off so that some Alpha could claim a tie to the Winchester bloodline, be bred and used to serve whatever purpose he was being purchased for. He wanted _out._

 

He was struggling harder and harder to keep the sour, angry look off of his face but he was failing badly. His father's eyes flashed at him before turning back to the outrageously appointed Alpha offering large shares of his agricultural trade. The man had thin lips and a sneering smile that made him look just a touch evil and Dean wanted to retch at the thought of being under him.

 

Dean was in the middle of planning an elaborate escape plot when he felt it. A shiver ran from the top of his head to his toes and a fire lit under his skin. He had thought himself finally numb to the constant push of Alpha at his brain, but whoever this new Alpha was, throwing such an intoxicating scent was like a tidal wave, and he whimpered in the now dead silent hall, about to be sucked under a current of _wantneedmate_ rising steadily, terrifyingly fast.

 

The eyes of every Alpha were on him, lungs pulling in the scent of his surprising heat in deep droughts of air. His legs trembled and he searched the room frantically for the Alpha giving off that scent that was quickly erasing every thought in his brain.

 

The wide oak door of the hall swung open, a laugh from a golden-haired man cut short as his darker companion stood stock still in the entrance.

 

Blue eyes locked with his and Dean crashed to his knees with a wordless cry, one hand held out beseechingly as he drowned in notes of cedar, orange, amber.

 

_Mate._

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The very last thing that Castiel had expected was to find himself frozen in the doorway to the opulent banquet hall, unable to tear his eyes away from the trembling, beautiful, _gods, was he beautiful_ , form of his mate, reaching for him across the room. His mate. The single being in all of creation meant for he, and he alone, was none other than the son of the most ruthless, hard-hearted kings the land had seen in an age.
> 
> Before he realized what was happening, Castiel was tearing across the floor, the instinctive pull to _protectclaimconquer_ drawing him to the omega like a magnetic force.
> 
>  
> 
> **some slight edits made midchapter, i felt Dean was a little OOC for this 'verse (and for where I intend for the plot to go) so i went with my gut and rewrote the fight scene**

 

The very last thing that Castiel had expected when he had reluctantly agreed (although, 'agreeing' implied something of a choice in the matter, of which he did _not_ have) to travel to the Winchester's realm to throw in his own bid for the hand of young omega prince, was to find himself frozen in the doorway to the opulent banquet hall, unable to tear his eyes away from the trembling, beautiful, _gods, was he beautiful,_ form of his mate, reaching for him across the room.

His _mate_.

The single being in all of creation meant for he, and he alone, was none other than the son of the most ruthless, hard-hearted kings the land had seen in an age.

Perhaps most distressing of all, they were separated by what felt like miles of pristine parquet floor and three dozen other Alphas, incensed and all intent upon claiming what belonged to _him_.

The tension in the hall sky-rocketed, as if as one, every Alpha in the room turned snarling toward the whimpering, crumbling omega on his knees and the shocked-bordering-on-enraged king now standing before him with his arms held wide, palms open in a clear gesture of “stay back, or you all die.”

The spell holding Castiel rooted in place was broken when a young, long-haired Alpha scooped the omega, _his omega_ , up in his arms and ran for the open archway to the right of the throne dais, followed by a stricken looking beta.

Before he realized what was happening, Castiel was tearing across the floor, new boots slipping on the slick surface, the instinctive pull to _protectclaimconquer_ drawing him to his mate like a magnetic force.

The room around him, behind him, exploded with a roar of shouting, but it was nothing more than a buzz in his ear around the pounding of his heart, the flood of heat through his veins, the blistering rage that another Alpha would dare lay hands upon his mate.

Two armored guards blocked the corridor with their hands upon the hilts of their blades, but they were no match. No matter how war-weary Castiel might have been, battle was in his blood, and in this he would not know defeat.

His vision edged with red, he left the guards in an unconscious heap and ignored the scream of pain singing up his arms from his torn and bloody hands to follow the retreating scent that had set his very soul on fire.

For the first time in his life, he understood what it meant to _Chase._

~{~

 

Castiel hunted his omega, scenting the air like a hound of Hell in search of its prey, through winding corridors of stone, paying little mind to the faces peeking around doorways whispering as he passed.

 

At the southernmost corner of the castle, the scent disappeared behind a heavy door bound in iron bands and he slammed bodily against it, rattling the hinges. Locked. Whatever fool believed that mere _locks_ would keep him from his mate would soon understand the folly of such a thought.

 

In blind impatience he nearly tore his belt off trying to slip the decorative (but deceptively well-honed) hand axe from its sheathe, rearing back once it was in hand to hack at the door frame, breathing and sweating heavily in his many layers of leathers and silks. With a roar of triumph the door burst inwards, but upon seeing the Alpha kneeling over his omega on the bed, _touching him_ , Castiel's thoughts blackened.

 

The next moment found him pinning the pup of an Alpha to the wall, the razor sharp blade pressing into his throat as he growled. When the young man looked back at him with a snarl, with defiant eyes, his grip tightened on the handle as he pressed harder, the smooth skin of the other man's throat creasing with the pressure.

 

From behind him a girl's scream sounded, but he did not turn, so strong was the desire to eliminate this whelp who presumed to lay claim upon what was his. Running footsteps echoed down the hall as he was about to draw the blade across, when a hoarse shout from the bed froze him mid-motion.

 

“No! Please, Alpha! No, don't!”

 

Castiel whipped his head around to stare at his wide-eyed, terrified mate trying to pull himself upright, knuckles white as they held on to the post. His voice crawled from his chest in a frighteningly low bass growl. “He dared to touch you. You are my mate.” He turned back to the young Alpha, cold eyes narrowing, intent, fingers clenching.

 

A desperate, frustrated whine of a growl shook him from his focus and the sharp point of a gleaming dagger was a deadly pinprick in the soft skin of his own throat. Castiel's eyes widened in surprise at the sight of this omega, barely standing on two trembling legs holding a blade against him. His scent was so strong this close, like pure clover honey drizzled over baked date and walnut bread, rich with cinnamon. Through it all he pulled in a bitter, peppery bite of anger, the acidic tang of fear. “Do not hurt him. _Please._ He is my brother.” Dean's voice was breathy, gasping around the hard edges, but firm. Castiel blinked, swallowed carefully.

 

His brow furrowed as he looked at the Alpha before him and realization dawned slowly through his muddled mind. He released the young man, dropping his axe to the floor. He stared at his mate, close enough to touch and watched his pupils dilate and contract as he tried to remain clearheaded. With his chin quivering, Dean pulled the dagger away and managed to drop it before doubling over with a pained cry.

 

 _Protect,_ was the only thought blasting through Castiel's mind and he turned to go to his mate when without warning it was his back being shoved against the wall so hard he felt it splinter.

 

“Samuel!” A booming shout, thick with the Alpha authority wielded skilfully by the King rang out through the room. “Release him. Now!” Hazel eyes hot with anger and barely reigned in rebellion bored into Castiel's, but suddenly the boy was yanked back, fingers catching in the twisted silk of his shirt before he was thrown to the floor.

 

Without the bulk of the angry youth in front of him he now saw the fearsome figure of the King towering over the boy on the ground. Castiel's eyes flicked to a red-haired willow-switch of a beta with a look on her face that suggested she would like to tear something precious from him if he dared to move a muscle rushing to help the shivering omega onto the bed where he curled up pitifully, clearly still in heat despite the rank scent of fear souring in Castiel's mouth.

 

His anger, his Chase induced possessive rage melted at the sight of his mate in distress. Castiel's shoulders slumped and he had never felt more ashamed of himself. He was supposed to protect, to cherish his mate, not traumatize him. Pain spiked through his heart as he stared, needing to fix what he had done.

 

Looking toward the King still standing in the center of the room, he bowed his head. “Your Majesty, I beg of you to forgive what I have done. I was...not myself. Allow me to make amends, please.” He finished, down on one knee, neck bared in submission to the powerful Alpha.

 

“Comfort your mate.” The voice above him said. Twin outraged cries from the young Alpha, Sam, and the beta now dabbing a cool wet cloth over Dean's sweating face and neck caused Castiel to look up. “Enough!” the King snapped. He turned to look at his younger son. “You did well protecting your brother, Sam, but this is not for debate.” With a fierce eye he pointed a finger at the beta still standing her ground. “Remember your place, Miss Bradbury, and do not make me remind you again.” A small snarl curled her thin lips, but she curtsied low to the ground with a terse, “Forgive me, m'lord.” She spared a glance at the bed and then ran from the room.

 

The King's eyes were dark and hard when Castiel met them. “You have abused my hospitality this night, but a mating instinct is nearly impossible to control in the first throes. Had any other done what you have done, it would be punishable by death. As such, your brother Gabriel has vouched for you, and so earned you leniency. Comfort your mate, Castiel. But attempt to take any further liberties and you will find yourself drawn and quartered by morning light. When he has settled, his handmaiden will attend to him, and I expect an audience with you to discuss what you are willing to offer for his hand before the night is through.”

 

Castiel nodded, bowing once more as he heard the click of boots over the floor and the door slamming shut.

~{~

 

Castiel stood with a hand over his eyes, trying to breathe through the confusion and guilt vying for dominance in his skull when he heard the omega on the bed whimper softly, the sound muffled as if he had tried to smother it. He turned to see his mate shudder and curl in on himself and felt a fresh wave of heat flash over them both. He pulled the scent in through his nose and fought the urge to rush to the bed and gather him in his arms.

 

He approached slowly, not wanting to spook the frightened omega, until his knees hit the side of the feather pallet. The body on the bed tensed and fear infused his scent. “I am sorry, Dean. I did not want to scare you, it is the last thing I would have ever wanted to do.” He whispered, trying to soothe him. “If you will allow it, may I join you on the bed?”

 

His breath stuttered in his chest when heat-blown green eyes turned to him. Even through the obvious arousal, those eyes were full of distrust, perhaps even disgust, and it flayed Castiel to the bone. “What do you want from me, Alpha.” The voice was small but biting, 'Alpha' flung at him like an insult, not an endearment.

 

Castiel's eyes widened. Did Dean truly expect him to mount him, knot him, then and there when he was so clearly distressed? Was that the reason for the disgust in those captivating eyes? He dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed and held out a hand. “Dean...you are my mate, I know you feel it, as I do. I do not _want_ anything from you. I wish only to comfort you in your pain, the pain that our bond has caused you.” He knew his voice was plaintive, entirely out of character for an Alpha, but Castiel had never been a typical Alpha.

 

Dean rolled over, groaning at the movement, and stared at him incredulously. “If you have come here tonight, like all the rest, you have only come to buy your way into my body. You want to own me. They all do, I could see it in their faces as they offered up whatever would please my father enough to pass me off.” His voice was harsh, Castiel could feel that he felt what he was saying was true, and his heart bled for this boy. “You may be my mate, Castiel, and if I must now belong to you, I cannot fight it. But understand this, my body may want you, but I do not. If I never saw another Alpha in my life, I would die happy.” With the last, bitter tears filled his unwilling mate's eyes, just as his heat pulled a cry from his throat, tremors wracking his slim body.

 

Castiel felt his heart breaking watching Dean sob through his pain, and he could bear it no longer. He crawled onto the bed, and pulled the limp boy into his arms, holding tight as fingers scrabbled at his coat trying to fight him off. Resting his back against the plush mound of pillows, he rocked Dean in his lap, fingers carding softly through his sweat-soaked hair. He murmured soothing things in his ear as he shook, pressing tender kisses to his fevered temple. “Let me care for you Dean, let me take you away from this place. You will not be a belonging, never merely an object for me. I know I have given you no reason to think otherwise, Dean, but if the day ever comes that I am blessed with knowing the pleasures of your body, it will be because you want it as well. Your body belongs to you and no other. I will not take that from you, ever.” Castiel meant it, hoped that Dean could feel the truth, the vow behind every word. He was not a slave to his knot, a slavering beast of passion and possession.

 

Dean had stilled in his arms, breath slowing, evening, and Castiel, thinking that he had given in to his exhaustion, shifted to lay Dean back against the cushions. He slipped his arms from around him and moved away to ease out of the bed when a hand fisted tight into the fabric of his shirt. He turned back to find those eyes staring up at him in confusion. “Did...Did you mean what you said?” Castiel nodded, daring to brush fingers over Dean's cheek.

 

He sucked in an unsteady breath when Dean's face turned into his palm, his eyes closing. “Please don't go. Not yet.” Tentative joy shattered bright through the shadows on his heart, but he had to know. “Dean? Whatever it is in my power to do, I will do it. You need only ask it of me.” He watched as a plump lower lip was drawn in between teeth, and he _wanted_. He felt the need to touch and be touched surge through him, but he held firm.

 

Dean's voice came so very softly, Castiel could barely make it out. “H-hold me in your arms again.” With a smile and a sigh, Castiel sunk back down, his arms opened in an invitation as Dean burrowed into his chest, nuzzling under his collarbone.

 

Castiel held Dean close, one hand curled around the nape of his neck, the other stroking along the ridge of his spine, and breathed in deeply, Dean's scent mellowing as he drifted off to sleep.

 

~{~

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo I meant to finish and post this chapter Wednesday night, but I got distracted by chasing plot bunnies for a sequel to Doves. Whoops!
> 
> Anyway, I hope y'all are all still tuned in. It may take me a while to get each chapter up, because of life stuff and letting my inspiration guide me to write what I feel like instead of feeling obligated to write for something I've already gotten started. I promise that I'll never abandon a fic once started, and I can understand being impatient for a new chapter (trust me, been there!), but hopefully you'll stick with me anyway! 
> 
> Big love to all of you who have commented, kudoed, and subscribed! Mwah!

Dean woke to slender fingers efficiently dragging a warm, wet cloth over his skin. His eyelids felt like they weighed a thousand pounds and just the thought of opening them felt like a monumental effort. He sighed in contentment as the lavender soap oil soothed his nerves, the cloth moving in soft strokes over his bare thighs.

 

Wait. _Bare_?

 

The last thing he remembered was falling asleep in the Alpha's arms and now he was naked apart from his chastity belt.

 

Fast as a striking snake his fingers were wrapped punishingly tight around the wrist attached to the hand about to dip the cloth between his legs and squeezed. A surprised yelp of pain entirely too feminine for who he had thought he would find had his eyes flying open. 

 

He released Charlie with a muttered apology and ground the heels of his palms into his tired eyes. His every muscle ached and his body felt strangely hollowed, as if there were spaces within him, carved out of flesh that now lay empty and longing. Dean took the cooling cloth from Charlie and groaned as he moved to sit at the edge of the bed. His skin was still hot to the touch, but nowhere close to the blistering fever that had threatened to cook him alive last night.

 

The heat that Dean had felt the minute the dark-haired Alpha had come through the door had been the worst he had ever experienced, including his first. He had never known such pain in his life, and it had terrified him, that his body had responded so strongly, so completely beyond his control. He owed his life, and his sanity, to Sam. If it hadn't been for his quick thinking, Dean would have drowned in the overwhelming wave of aggressive, aroused Alpha pheromones, and the gods only knew what might have happened had his father been unable to hold them all back. 

 

As it was, the one Alpha who was responsible for his current state was the only one who had made it through the King's considerable guard and had chased his scent through the castle like a hound on the hunt. Dean tried unsuccessfully to squash the fluttering in his traitor of a heart at the thought of his Alpha fighting to get to him.

 

Dammit, no. No matter who the man was or how devastatingly handsome, no matter what his own body was trying to tell him, he had no claim on Dean. Not in any way that truly mattered.

 

He may have been the butt of a cruel joke of nature, but he would die before he let some ridiculous biological drive dictate how he felt. He had spent the last six years quietly rebelling against the expectations the world held for him and he wasn't about to start giving into them now. 

 

His father would marry him off, sell him off for land or gold, and he would survive it. But there was no power on the Earth that could force him to love the unlucky bastard. Castiel may have held him gently, spoken softly and kindly to him when he was out of his mind with heat and fear, but Dean knew nothing of him and it took more than an intoxicating scent to win his heart. 

 

Despite what the fairytales said, Dean had never been the type of omega to sit around just waiting for some Alpha on a white steed to claim him. 

 

With a sigh he finished bathing himself, and smiled weakly at Charlie when she brought fresh clothing.

She watched with her arms crossed over her chest and a tiny scowl on her face as he dressed himself, knowing him well enough not to even attempt to help. 

 

“So that Alpha-” She started before Dean cut her off with a groan.

 

“Do we have to have this conversation?” He pleaded. He just wanted to get out of bed, out of the room that Dean could still smell teasing traces of fragrant wood and juicy orange and into the open air of the courtyard. 

 

Charlie's scowl deepened, but there was a hint of worry in her features, worry for _him_ , and he felt a stirring of anger at the sight of it, even though he knew it wasn't intentional. 

 

“Dean, he refused to leave you during the night. I know he's your mate,” She held up a hand at his indignant growl. “No, you know what I mean. Your physical bond is so strong Dean, and you aren't even mated. I have never seen an omega react as strongly to any Alpha as you did last night. And he...he wouldn't let me near you, glared and growled at me every time I came close. Your father had to come and all but threaten him with death to pull him away.”

 

Dean absolutely refused to entertain the riot of emotions that surging through him, but an undeniable part of him was praying to whatever god would listen that Castiel would be the one to win him. None of the Alphas that he'd seen last night had caught his eye, many of them had been repulsive to him, with their greedy hungry gazes and grabbing possessive hands. 

 

He shook himself mentally. Just because Castiel had taken an uncharacteristic approach, he was still an Alpha. He may have said he didn't want to own Dean, but it was his nature, even the most mild of Alphas were the same deep down. 

 

Worst of all was that another part of Dean was afraid he didn't care.

 

~{~

 

Castiel sat trying not to shift uncomfortably in the chair before the King's wide, impressive writing desk, the older man looking just as regal and intimidating as the richly appointed room around him. His groin throbbed painfully from where the red-haired beta handmaiden had “accidentally” knocked into him with her heavy tray as she'd passed him in the doorway of Dean's bedchamber. 

 

He gulped from the goblet of wine the King's servant had set before him when he'd entered, determined not to look away from the hard, dark gaze pinning him in place. 

 

“I knew your father,” John broke the yawning silence. “You know, before he died. We were once powerful allies, though the strength of that alliance has waned somewhat in recent years. I wonder what he would think of you now, Castiel. The famed warrior son, disgracing your family's honorable name with your little rebellion.” 

 

Castiel bristled, fists clenching. His little rebellion. 

 

In the last battle between his family's kingdom and the ruthless horde of Demons invading from the south, his Lieutenant and sister Anna had been captured by Fergus Crowely, self-crowned “King of Hell.” Anna had been one of the only female Alphas to demand a place in the ranks, and despite her sex, had climbed within those ranks and become a beloved and charismatic leader among the men. She had been taken in the heat of battle, and claimed as a war conquest. 

 

Castiel, dragging the remnants of their beaten army to the safety of their homeland, had immediately requested more troops to stage a rescue. 

 

His King, his _brother_ , Michael had refused him. The Demons had offered a truce, a deal, in exchange for Anna. If no retaliation was made in her honor, the cruel black-hearted savages would never again step foot on Novak land. 

 

Michael had taken the deal, and when Castiel raged and railed against the decision, his brother had laid the blame upon Anna herself. Women weren't meant to be soldiers, even if they happened to be Alpha, one was as unnatural as the other, and she had taken the risk when she entered the field of battle. 

 

Unable and unwilling to leave his sister in the hands of the devil, Castiel had gathered in secret a small contingent of men loyal to him, and to Anna, to his cause. They had ridden out under cover of darkness, riding hard and fast for the Demon stronghold where she had been taken. 

 

They never even made it across the border. There had been a Judas among them, and on a pitch black stretch of fallow field, they'd been surrounded. Held at sword and spearpoint by their own people. 

 

He had been the only man left standing, forced to watch as men who had trusted him, _believed_ in him, were slaughtered in punishment. 

 

Something had broken within him that night. 

 

He buried his men in that forgotten field until his hands were caked with blood and dirt, and made himself walk through the village and suffer the betrayed faces of the families of the men whose lives had been stolen because he had wanted to do what he believed was right while his life had been spared.

 

His rank had been stripped from him, and he had been exiled to a tiny, lonely village outpost to the north of the kingdom. 

 

And there Castiel had lived for the last six years, in solitude, haunted by ghosts that cursed him in the night. 

 

When Gabriel had descended upon his dank and musty prison of a home, he had been wholly unprepared to hear that Michael was ordering him to travel to the lands of their oldest allies, the Winchesters, and make a bid for the hand of his eldest, omega son's hand in marriage. He had nothing to offer the King.

 

As if to underscore that thought, John brought him back into the present with a cold laugh. “Do you have any idea the offers that have been made for Dean's hand already? Not even your show last night put them off, in fact, bids nearly tripled after that display.”

 

Castiel's heart pounded. No. Would John truly deny him now, knowing now that Castiel was destined to be mated with Dean? He battled the urge to race to the room where he had spent the night watching over the boy, breathing him in, feeling his perfect scent soaking into his very soul, and take him from this place forever. 

 

John sneered. “Luckily for you, your brother is quite persuasive. A match between our two kingdoms will solidify our alliance for the rest of time, and he has offered me percentages of all of your holdings. Of course, I don't expect much from such an isolated outpost, barely a pencil scratch on the trade routes. No, the real prize is that he has promised your young omega brother to my Samuel.”

 

Castiel gaped. Samandriel had only been a tiny, timid boy of six when Castiel had been banished. Omegas were as rare among the Novak line as they had been among the Winchester's. He could have only just presented and he was already being used as a bargaining chip for Michael's political ambitions.

 

John's teeth gleamed like white fangs in the grey light of morning streaming weakly through the tall windows. “So fear not, Castiel. A mating match to Dean will restore honor to your family. You shall have your mate, though while he is my son, my firstborn, I would not wish an omega such as he upon any Alpha. His refusal to behave as a proper omega is expected to has been quite an embarrassment to me.” His head shook softly with false sadness.

 

Castiel swallowed the growl bubbling up within him, the urge to protect his mate from this man who would talk about his own child with such clear disgust was burning through his veins. 

 

John turned his attention then to the many papers spread across the gleaming wood surface of his desk, the dismissal in the action obvious. Castiel sat for a moment, still attempting to process all that had John had said. When the other man did not look up or comment further, Castiel stood, tossing back the bitter dregs of his wine and made for the door. A servant hurried to open it and just as he was about to cross the threshold, the King spoke once more. 

 

“The wedding will be held in one fortnight. Your brother is expected to be in attendance, and do bring along young Samandriel, would you? May the gods bless you with swift and pleasant travels, Castiel.” With that, Castiel was bustled from the room by the servant, and there was no room for argument.

 

Barely a quarter of an hour later, he and Gabriel were astride their mounts, clipping along at an easy pace as they followed the path that would lead them through the courtyard to the gates. Gabriel chattered away, not disturbed in the least at Castiel's lack of response. He was too overwhelmed to be cheered, or even annoyed, by his brother's lighthearted, crude jokes.

 

Despite the fact that marriages such as the one being arranged for himself, and now for sweet little Samandriel were so very common as to be expected among civilized society, Castiel found himself angered that his youngest brother would never have the chance to find his true mate. Was Castiel's potential for happiness (no matter what John had said, he refused to believe that he could not reach Dean in some way), was it worth sacrificing Samandriel's freedom? Could he deny himself the opportunity to be with his mate?

 

He and Gabriel had passed beneath the arched opening of the gateway and entered onto the road when a strange tingling sensation crawled down the back of his neck, almost as if burning eyes were focused upon him. Castiel turned in his saddle and peered over his shoulder, breath catching in his throat when he found Dean standing on the parapet atop the outer wall of the hold, hair blazing in a golden crown in the afternoon light. The pull of his mate was inexorable, and Castiel's fingers clenched tightly on the reigns to keep him from yanking the horse around and galloping back to take Dean in his arms and breathe in that sweet scent once more, perhaps stroke the softness of his cheek, claim his lush mouth with a kiss. 

 

Castiel looked and looked, their gazes only breaking once he had passed around a turning in the road.

 

He feared now that there was no denying what he felt, what he hoped beyond hope that Dean felt as well. 

 

 


End file.
